Haamiah Ramiel, Halie for Short
by Hailey C. Black
Summary: A daughter of Michael is hiding on Earth, but as the angel of thunder, doesn't really know how to keep a low profile. When her father gets fed up, she's assigned the task no angel really wants, but she is uniquely tailored for- guiding the Winchester boys


A/N- This is a Supernatural story I thought up, because I keep thinking of a character with wings and the only fandom that could fit in that I could think of would be Supernatural. New chapters might be slow in coming but I kind of have plans for this to actually go somewhere:) So enjoy...

Word Count: 2,471 (taken before author's note added; includes title and end notes)

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><p><strong>Haamiah Ramiel, Halie for Short<strong>

**Chapter 1** Angel of Thunder, Inconspicuous?

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><p>I hunched my shoulders inward, swiping my long hair behind my ear and keeping my eyes to the ground. I was trying my best to be inconspicuous. I had been in this town, in this school for two weeks, and so far no one had really given me so much as a glance. The children of this high school were oblivious to my presence here. That was what I was working toward, so my disguise seemed to be adequate.<p>

I wasn't particularly fond of it, as I am really an exhibitionist at heart, and the overweight, slightly taller than average form I had chosen wasn't really meant to attract anyone's eye. I needed to be here only until Father called for me, but in the meantime, it was best if I went unnoticed. If anyone took an interest in me, there would be questions that I needed to avoid if I wanted to try and make this town last longer that a few months.

I arrived in this mediocre town in the middle of the night, a supposedly sixteen year old girl on my own, and rented a small house in an apartment complex owned by Father's people, so no questions would be asked or curiosity garnered about the new arrival to town. I was told that I was to be easily forgettable, so that when I left, there was no way I could be traced back here. Anyone asked about me would reply that they didn't know me, or that they had only seen me in passing but they couldn't even recall my name let alone describe me. I was under strict instruction to keep a _very_ low profile.

Usually, I was left up to my own devices and came up with my own cover stories; although, my cover usually reached its limit about six months in and I had to be moved. It barely registered as a slight annoyance to Father that I had to be moved every six months, so it became a game to me; I came up with more imaginative stories in every town I moved through. Then the last one had gotten out of hand.

The story of my supposedly fabulous life as the heiress of a Russian mob boss sent overseas to hide from assassins was so interesting, the story traveled all the way into the city and things unraveled rather quickly when the local faction of the Italian mob that had a beef with their Russian counterpart decided attacking me would give them more power over the territory. It was a mistake no man lived to make again, but the mess I made had Father expending a lot of resources to clean up. I felt really guilty for wasting his time when he could be doing more important things than cleaning up after me.

So, although I was a sucker for attention, I promised I would go incognito to my next assigned destination. This time I was working really hard to do as I was told.

So when a group of boys standing along the wall by the back entrance to the school called out to me, "Hey, you in the purple shirt!" I kept going; annoyed, but determined to keep my head down. When I got closer and one of the boys, in an attempt to make his buddies laugh, called out, "My giant, purple Love!" I grit my teeth and tried to squash down my anger at the fact that they were not only ridiculing me, or rather the form I had chosen, but they were demonstrating that I had apparently chosen the wrong form to stay under the radar. Apparently my form attracted the attention of bullies… I was nearly passed them, reaching for the door handle so I could go about my day, when the one who had been calling for my attention grabbed my arm.

Unfortunately for him it was instinct to break his firm grip, and my anger made it instinctual to do it in the most painful way I could still argue was appropriate for the situation.

When I twisted around with my iron grip squeezing his wrist to the point just before breaking, he let out a high pitched yelp and fell to his knees out of pain and shock. I looked down at his pained expression and pathetic whimpering, to his three friends standing behind him in stunned silence. Despite my anger, I paused to make a decision.

I had already showed a little bit of my speed and strength- enough to be noticed as unusual, as this boy was at least eight inches taller than me and had an unusually muscular build for a boy of seventeen. And I had done this in a location that had caused the scene these boys had started to make to immediately form a crowd now at the promise of something interesting.

I could let this boy go now and walk away, hoping that everyone would forget it happened; but I knew that realistically, this incident would have called too many people's attention to me, and the effort it would take in diffusing every person's interest in me outweighed the effort it would take to simply blow my cover and move on. My decision was between what is right and what is easy.

Sadly, I'm not one to take the high road after I've been angered, so it looked like I was taking the easy way. On the bright side- I had been severely deprived of any attention at all for the past two and a half weeks and the easy way came with a side of exhibition.

The grin that broke out on my face had the boy in my grip pulling harder in an effort to escape.

I loosened my grip enough that he wasn't about to need a cast, but he wasn't getting out of my hold anytime soon. I stroked a hand down the side of his face and shushed soothingly. He looked up at me with pleading eyes that started to well with confusion at the tender gesture that conflicted with the pain I was still causing him.

"Answer me one question and I will let you go." I demanded softly, still using a soothing tone to quiet his annoying whimpers. He nodded quickly.

"What about my appearance called your attention?" I asked slowly and in a condescendingly sweet tone.

"W-what?" He stuttered. He cried out sharply at the increased pressure to his wrist. This caused two of his friends to step forward to try and pull the boy free. One of them reached out to grab my arm, or push me away.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." I snarled. They both froze and looked up into my eyes. They flinched under the heat of my glare.

"Just let him go! He was just joking!" The boy who hadn't yet moved nearly shouted.

"Perhaps you can answer my question then?" I prompted him to speak, glancing at the other two, inviting them to speak up. The boy on his knees was still whimpering incomprehensibly.

"What the hell kind of question is that? Just let him go, you're going to break his wrist! We have a game on Friday, and he's the starting quarterback!" The one on the left said, moving again to his fallen friend.

He halted at the sound of a bone snapping, followed by an agonized scream. The crowd of students that had gathered gasped and shouted in shock. No teachers were present, as no one had seen fit to fetch one. It hadn't looked like a fight was imminent.

"I only want to know so that I know how to craft a better form in my next destination." I said calmly, dropping the limp arm of the unconscious boy it was attached to. The boy on the right fell to his knees beside his friend to keep him from falling to the ground and yelled, "You broke his wrist! You freak! You broke his wrist!"

"What the hell does that even mean?" The one on the right asked.

"I chose this form to keep from being noticed. As I apparently stood out enough for you to want to humiliate me, or ridicule me, there must be something I need to change to make myself call less attention." I informed him. He just looked more confused. "This is why Father let me be whoever I wanted before; I'm not good at choosing nondescript forms." I mumbled. I was frustrated that I had failed so early in my objective, but I figured I could at least get some help in building a form that was unnoticeable. But the boys were too shocked or confused to be of any help.

I started to shift into my natural form. It couldn't hurt. I had already broken my cover far beyond repair by effortlessly subduing the douchebag quarterback and breaking his wrist with nary a thought.

It started at my eyes. A bright blue spark with a golden edge began at my pupils and expanded outward around my irises, changing the color from a dull gray-blue to a startling vibrant green. As the circles of light grew past each of my eyes, they joined together and expanded over my face, causing all freckles and blemishes to disappear and be replaced by smooth, creamy skin over rose hued cheeks and romantic features on my slender, heart shaped face. When the light traveled across my hair, each strand became its natural shining golden color as it curled and lengthened into a brilliant mane of long blond waves.

The light quickly traveled down my torso and limbs leaving behind my slender, yet slightly muscled natural build, and soft alabaster skin that was free of all blemishes; my clothes transformed from a loose purple collared shirt and khaki pants into a white cotton and lace sun dress that reached to just above my knees and had thin straps holding up the tight bodice and flowing skirt.

My wings were the last thing that formed in one last brilliant flash of golden-edged, blue light. They were large- a sixteen foot wing-span when they were unfurled, but at rest they reached from just above my head to about six inches off the floor. I'm five feet eleven inches tall, so that made them about five feet eight inches from tip to top curve when they're in resting position. They were also a blinding white with a few coal black, and a few metallic gold feathers interspersed.

It was silent as everyone, including some teachers who had just arrived to investigate the reason behind the gathering of students, tried to process what they had just seen. After just a moment whispering broke out as everyone stared at me. The jaws of the three boys in front of me dropped in shock. The one who had caused all this had regained consciousness just before I shifted into my natural form, and was now spluttering as he held his broken wrist close to his chest. He forced himself up off the ground with the help of the two friends who had been on the ground on either side of him.

"Who—What are you?" he asked, then startled when I shook my wings a bit to loosen some of the feathers that had been constricted while in my disguise.

"Well, I am an Angel of the Lord… but you can call me Halie; short for Haamiah Ramiel. As a daughter of Michael, I have chosen to spend time on earth because I usually enjoy human contact and I wanted to be able to relate more to humans. I was supposed to find somewhere to stay hidden and out of the way until I was given an assignment, but as the angel of thunder, it seems I cannot go long without demanding attention, unfortunately." Stepping back, causing the crowd to part, I made my way out from under the overhang above the walkway leading to the school.

I spread my wings, causing more gasps as they were opened to be viewed in all their glory. The jerk with the freshly broken wrist stepped forward before I could jump into the air to take off.

"Wait, I—I'm really sorry. I don't know why I act like such a prick sometimes. You just—you just looked so tense and lost in thought… I guess I called out to you because I wanted to make you laugh. It didn't seem natural for you not to smile somehow... That doesn't make sense—I'm just… I'm just sorry." He rambled. I looked at him with a little bit of shock, before I smiled brilliantly.

"Well, I am the angel of Joy, so frowning is definitely not natural for me. But I'm also the angel of ethical decisions, I guess you were subconsciously influenced to try and help make a sad girl happy, but you really went about it the wrong way… but you apologized… so—" I reached out toward him and gently pulled his broken and already bruising wrist away from his chest. I healed his wrist and he let out a sigh of relief.

"Let this be a lesson to you: Do not touch a girl without her permission. Do not ridicule a person based on their looks," I said, looking back to the three friends of the quarterback, who looked to the ground in shame, "and do not fuck with people when you don't know who they are." I finished with a slight edge to my voice before I kicked off and pushed hard with my wings to gain altitude.

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><p>+Note: When she refers to Father, she means Michael the Archangel. She says Lord or God when she means God.<p>

+A little bit of Name Definition and a small Preview of what's to come:

**Haamiah**- _Angel of Integrity_- Guides us in making ethical decisions and encourages us to express our true selves.- She'll be sent to help keep Sam and Dean on the right track and she will make things a bit awkward because the 'encourage to express true selves' bit means more emotions come out that the boys usually repress. One of her favorite sayings will probably be, "Alright, boys, lets hug it out"

**Ramiel**- _Angel of Thunder_- Resides over true vision. Is the angel of joy in female form.– She will be sent to also help Sam with his visions- which are a reaction of the conflicting energies that are occurring because of the small amount of God's grace that was given to him when he was young to help combat the poison of Azazel's blood. Gets along with Dean well because she's fun loving, like him, hence angel of joy.


End file.
